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that doesn’t stop her telling everybody else how to use theirs. It gives me an idea.
    â€˜Hey, Roseanne,’ I say. ‘Can you give me some help checking my compass? I’m not sure if it’s pointing true north or not.’
    She’s already on her way over. We go back to the boulder and start comparing compasses, taking sightings onto one of the small, rocky islands out from the coast.
    I stall her for about ten minutes and then return to the group. Danny nods and winks.
    People are getting ready to move. I sit down and slip my arms through the straps of my pack. It weighs a million tonnes. I packed food for four days, but it feels like I’ve got enough to last for the next four months. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought so much canned food.

    But I don’t mind. No matter how heavy my pack is, Roseanne’s must be even heavier.
    Not that it seems to be giving her much trouble. She picks it up with one hand, slips her arms through the shoulder straps and strides to the front of the group. She’s off down the trail and around the bend before anybody else has even started walking. You’d think Danny had filled her pack with helium balloons.
    Even though my legs are feeling like jelly after the morning’s climb, I walk quickly to catch up with Roseanne. I want to enjoy the sight of her carrying our rocks. If nothing else, it’ll help take my mind off the weight of my own load. No matter how much pain I’m in, she’ll be feeling worse.
    She’s walking so fast that after about fifteen minutes we’ve left the rest of the group way behind. The track becomes steeper and slightly overgrown. Roseanne pushes her way past a small tree branch that’s hanging across the track and holds it back for me.

    Just as I’m about to grab it, she lets go and the branch flicks back hard against my face. The pain makes my eyes water.
    â€˜Watch it,’ I say. ‘Are you trying to blind me?’
    â€˜Sorry about that, mate,’ says Roseanne. ‘But you should always try to keep at least two metres behind the person in front so that they can’t flick branches in your face.’
    â€˜I was staying behind, but you deliberately held it back for me.’
    â€˜That’s cos I’m such a nice person,’ she says. ‘I thought you’d grab it. Honest!’
    â€˜Yeah, right, Roseanne.’
    She must think I came down in the last shower. She’s staring at me with that stupid grin on her face. And, what’s worse, she doesn’t look the slightest bit tired. There’s not a single drop of sweat on her.
    â€˜How are you feeling?’ I ask.
    â€˜Great!’ she says. ‘How about you?’
    â€˜Fine!’ I say. ‘Never felt better. You’ve got such a big pack, though. It looks like it must be heavy.’
    â€˜Yeah, it’s heavy,’ she says. ‘But I can handle it. Hey, what’s that on your jumper?’
    She points to my chest.

    I freeze. Please, God, don’t let it be a spider. Anything but a spider. I look down and Roseanne flicks her finger up my chin, my nose and off the top of my head.
    â€˜Gotcha!’ she cackles, as I jerk backwards – which is not a good move, considering how heavy my pack is. The next thing I know I’m falling off the track and crashing through the scrub.
    I’m in a prickle bush. I can’t get up. I’m on my back, just like an upside-down tortoise.
    â€˜Enjoy your trip?’ calls Roseanne.
    â€˜Shut ya face,’ I say.
    â€˜Are you all right?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ I say, ‘I can’t get up.’
    â€˜Hang on,’ she says. She shrugs off her pack and slides down the bank commando-style. ‘Give me your hand.’
    The thought of having to hold Roseanne’s hand is only marginally more appealing than having to hold a live funnel-web spider, but I’m not exactly in a position to refuse.
    Her grip is